


Shoe Fitting

by emrys (livingshitpost)



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Love, Mentioned Pregnancy, Physical Disability, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, Shoes, Trans Character, Trans Pregnancy, héctor and imelda are trans. fuck you, imelda is passionate abt shoes, past pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 12:48:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16640426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingshitpost/pseuds/emrys
Summary: Imelda made incredible shoes.It was atrocious, then, when she discovered that her former-ex-husband never fucking wore any.





	Shoe Fitting

Imelda made incredible shoes. She had perfected the craft in life, and in death, she had only continued the practice. She ran a successful shoe shop in the Land of the Dead, where she had employed all of her deceased relatives, but she remained the best of them all.

It was atrocious, then, when she discovered that her former-ex-husband never _fucking_ wore any.

"You mean to tell me that you've just been walking around for the past near-century without any shoes?!"

"No, no, I  _had_ shoes, I just-"

"Don't tell me you lost them trying to cross the bridge."

"No! But the soles were wearing out, and I just didn't see the point in wearing them anymore, so-"

" _Vamos_ , Héctor," she interrupted, taking him by the wrist. "I'm going to fit you myself and you are going to wear shoes like a  _person_."

"Imelda, you don't have to-"

"Apparently I do! I won't allow you to go around barefoot all the time. You are a Rivera, and Riveras _wear_ their _goddamned shoes_."

(He would have continued arguing, but his metaphorical heart still fluttered when she referred to him as family, so the warm feeling between his ribs shut him up.)

"Sit down," she told him as they entered the back room of the shop, pulling out her tape measure. " _Rápido, rápido. Vamos._ "

He did as he was told. "You know," he said softly, "You really don't have to-"

" _Silencio_." She sat across from him, grabbed him by the ankle, and pulled it into her lap, quickly taking a few measurements before scrawling them on the pad of paper beside her. "Other foot," she commanded. He obeyed.

"It's hard for me to find shoes that fit." He said awkwardly, just wanting to fill the space. "Remember when the soles of my good boots fell off, and we spent three days looking for replacements?"

"Yes, Héctor," she said with a smile, "I remember. That foot of yours always did cause you so much trouble. Your leg would cramp for days and you would just lie there on the couch with Coco."

Héctor smiled at the memory. "She always helped take my mind off it."

"And you would have the most ridiculous conversations."

"They were  _not_ ridiculous!"

"She told you the sky was  _red_ , Héctor."

"She was three years old,  _tonta_."

Imelda smacked Héctor's leg lightly, but couldn't hide her smile. "And when your hips would ache before Coco was born . . ."

" _Oye_ , don't remind me." He laced his fingers and put his hands behind his head. "Worst five months of my life."

"You know I'd have done anything to bear that pain for you."

"I know, I know. And it wasn't all bad; we got Coco out of the deal."

"And I'm forever grateful for your willingness to go through with it."

"Well, we didn't have many other options."

"But you never complained."

"Yes I did."

"About the experience, yes, but never about Coco."

"Of course; she's our daughter. She's the greatest thing to ever happen to me, right next to you. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat."

"Héctor, we don't have hearts."

"Always so picky about the wording."

"And you're not?"

"Hey, I'm a songwriter. I  _have_ to be picky about that."

" _Tarado_."

"You're the _tarada_ , _tarada_."

"Says the man who's gone most of his afterlife without wearing anything in decent condition."

"It's a fashion statement. Hip with the kids."

"Shut up."

"It's true! Have you  _seen_ the way they're dressing now? Ripped jeans, shirts that don't fit- it's a mess."

"I thought you were 'hip with the kids'?"

Héctor shrugged. "I guess being almost a hundred and twenty years old is finally catching up to me."

"You're still just as handsome as when you were twenty."

"And you're still just as beautiful as when you were . . ." He hummed for a moment, pretending to count on his fingers. "Eighty?"

Imelda stood, holding her hand as though she were going to hit her husband, but the laughter that erupted from him made her face soften. She flicked his forehead and pulled him to his feet. 

"You're lucky I love you so much," she said. There was a hint of almost-malice in her voice.

"I really am," Héctor agreed as he kissed her.


End file.
